Middleman
by Papersamurai
Summary: In light of Watson's marriage, Holmes becomes somewhat depressed until he meets the new applicant for his roommate at Baker Street.


Disclaimer: All rights reserved to the owners of Sherlock Holmes and the Middleman. I do not own any of the characters, execpt the ones I create, and this is all for the fun of it.

**_Middleman_**

Smoke loomed in the air, what would be called a concentrated area to help the mind. It was all rather disgusting to look at though it was called home by one, though formally a pair of two. Most would think that this pair was inseparable, but that wasn't the case as of late for Sherlock Holmes and his chronicler, Dr. John Watson.

It was only a few weeks ago that Watson had found and married a women, opening his own practice and leaving 221 Baker Street for a comfortable brownstone in Southern London. To Holmes' knowledge they were still in France celebrating the union. Not that it really mattered; the subject was a sore source of irritation for Holmes.

Watson was always the proverbial ladies man, though Holmes never knew he would actually go so far as to marry one. It was boggling, that a man of his brilliance could be so confused with the simplicity of marriage.

Holmes sat in his chair by the fire, staring at Watson's empty one across from him. Normally the smoky haze would have a harsh scent yet a subtle sweetness of pipe tobacco, though now it just burned the eyes. It was a cloud of cigarette smoke, there was nothing to concentrate about at this point to consider having a pipe or its ritual of emptying and refilling to take a break from thought. This was a subject that Holmes didn't want to forget soon, it challenged him. And who was the Great Sherlock Holmes to back down from a challenge. The cigarettes merely served the purpose of curbing his appetite and his addiction.

Holmes couldn't believe that Watson had actually done it, though Watson's fiancée was even more when Holmes hadn't even heard of her. He never took interest in personal matters, but now it was all he could think about.

His mind wondering to the subtle nuptials at the courthouse, he took another drag of his cigarette. Dark eyes were intently watching the dancing flames and cindering blocks, as soft crackles and the snapping of wooden sinews filled the room.

'Why would Watson do this,' he thought. 'Is he really in what people call love? Or is it just a form of comfort, which he and everyone else have been brought up believing in. And by that fact, every thought they needed it.'

Holmes hadn't been on the best of terms with Watson as of late, but he had never thought he would do something as drastic as this to get his attention. Marriage was a laughable subject, even more so than Love.

Exhaling the long held breath of acrid air, it was then that Holmes felt it bursting in the back of his mind. The subtle wave of euphoria that came with cigarettes, but that would also mean to stop smoking for a while, for risk of becoming sick. That was the last thing he needed at this point, lack of oxygen to his brain, sprawled out in front of the fire, jacket twisted around him, trying not to become sick. Resisting the bodily urge of regurgitation, not that it would have yielded much as Holmes hadn't eaten anything other than coffee and brandy in the past two or three days. Even he wasn't sure how long it had been.

Another drag continued the wave, he relished. Closing his eyes, letting his head fall back onto his chair, riding it out as he exhaled once more, but something disturbed his quiet. It was the sound of footsteps, that's plural. Two sets, and what Holmes believed to be both women; one being that of Mrs. Hudson and the other he was not familiar with.

They were approaching, closer and closer. He couldn't think of why anyone would show any interest in him, no one had contacted him in months.

That was another reason Watson's flight had affected him so, there was nothing vaguely exciting or scintillating to investigate, just an infernal fog of the mind that could let any criminal run rampant and roam the streets of London with abandon. And he heard not one word of it.

There was a sharp tap on his door, of which he had become accustomed to know that it was his landlady. "Mr. Holmes, you have a visitor," she pronounced sternly.

Holmes fought with himself, he had neither want nor need for a visitor. Even if it was a client, he was more than likely to botch the entire operation in his condition. "Go Away," he shouted. Irritation had got the best of him.

There was another intense series of raps, leading him to Mrs. Hudson's own irritation with his almost child like behavior. He heard some whispering but didn't make anything of them, a singular knock followed.

The elation of his cigarette was now gone, which just grinded upon his mind further. Pouncing out of the chair, to make sure that there wasn't a chance of another accusatory knock, the settled ash from the smoldering stick flew around him as the tails of his long robe flowed behind his great strides.

"What is it, Mrs. Hudson?!" Holmes jerked open the door, noticing that she already had her hand poised for additional bouts of motion upon the wood. She looked shocked at his black as coal stare, nostrils flared in utter frustration.

Seeing her stunned look he turned to her companion, who seemed to look at him with a soft pleading gaze. Her green eyes, contrasted with her soft, light brown skin and dark hair. He continued to analyze the contours of her face, from her large pink lips to her sharp chin. He noted that she was obviously of Cuban decent.

"Mr. Holmes…," she asked hesitantly, her eyes never leaving his. It was the icing she was an American to boot, her voice devoid of any distinguishable accent other than gritty American dialogue.

While still examining her, he took the last breath from his tobacco. Upon hearing her almost introduction, more a question really, he brushed his hair back down with his hand, still staring at her. His mouth curled into a smile as he started to laugh ridiculously, aching his back as smoke bellowed from his mouth.

**A/N: **This is my very fist fanfiction. I got the idea while watching the new show _'The Middleman'_ on ABC Family. The unknown woman will be somewhat based off of Wendy Watson in the show. I know kinda unorginal. Please review, even if you think it sucks, just need the criticism.


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